


Trick or...

by nest_of_dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 06:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12575948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nest_of_dreams/pseuds/nest_of_dreams
Summary: Draco's got into the holiday spirit. Harry isn't pleased.Or: Five times Draco scares Harry, and one time Harry scares Draco.





	Trick or...

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Happy Halloween everyone!

**1**

Harry is washing dishes while he listens to the soft _pop_ of the popcorn in the microwave. He smiles as he hears Draco yelling for him to hurry up, already snuggled up on their couch with a thick blanket around him. He keeps claiming that the movie will start in a minute, but it’s already been fifteen minutes and Harry’s pretty sure it hasn’t begun yet or Draco would already be screaming. His boyfriend isn’t very good when it comes to anything remotely scary, though he begs to differ.

When the dishes are done and the popcorn is ready, Harry finally joins Draco on the couch, placing the popcorn on his lap.

“Took you long enough,” Draco grumbles, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “Lift your arm.”

Harry does so, keeping his expression as serious as he can. Draco is snuggled up against him in an instance and Harry lowers his arm to rest on his narrow shoulders. It was a surprise, but the fact that Draco’s a shameless cuddler isn’t something Harry complains about.

The movie begins a few minutes later and Harry is soon clinging onto Draco as tightly as Draco is clinging onto him. He hasn’t expected the movie to actually scare him, but bloody hell is it creepy. He’s surprised Draco hasn’t begged him to turn it off yet, considering he can’t seem to stop shaking.

Things come to a head when the lights suddenly turn off, and they are plunged into darkness. Draco lets out a bloodcurdling shriek and Harry yelps as his nails dig into his arm so hard, he thinks the skin might have broken.

“ _Harry_ ,” Draco whimpers pathetically and Harry gropes around frantically for his wand. He eventually finds it wedged between the cushions and gratefully casts a _lumos_. The dim light is eerie but better than complete darkness, and now he can see his boyfriend’s pale face inches away from his own.

“Calm down,” he says soothingly and places a gentle kiss on Draco’s quivering lips. “I’ll just go check the fuse box. Do you want to come with me?”

Draco seems to pull himself together then and shakes his head. “I’ll stay here. I have my wand and really,” he sniffs, “it’s just a Muggle film.”

Harry smiles indulgently at the haughty tone and makes his way to the fuse box. As he’d suspected, he finds that the trip has gone off, and reaches out to remedy the problem. Just as he is about to push it back up though, he hears a sound. Tensing, Harry swings around with his wand extended, but there doesn’t seem to be anything there.

With a sigh of irritation, he turns back to the fuse box, angry with himself for acting so jumpy. He’s about to reach for the trip again but stops and glances back over his shoulder when he hears the sound again, and it’s with even more irritation that he sees nothing there. Truth be told, he’s not even sure _what_ the sound is or if there _is_ a sound in the first place.

When he reaches out to the trip for the third time, he isn’t even surprised when he hears the sound. This time he turns with a scoff, fully expecting to see nothing again since apparently he’s going crazy and is hearing unidentifiable sounds now. Instead, Harry chokes on his spit and jumps back so fast he bangs the back of his head hard on the wall.

“Merlin, Harry. Are you alright?”

The ‘something’ this time turns out to be none other than Draco, who is now squatting down to peer at him in concern, and Harry realizes that he’s slid down the wall onto his arse, and his head is throbbing like crazy.

“Don’t _do_ that,” he manages to grit out, teeth clenched against the pain. Draco reaches out to gently prise his hand away from the impressive bump, and then murmurs something, his wand already out and pointed at Harry’s head. The relief is instantaneous and if Harry wasn’t already in love with Draco, he would be now.

“Thank you,” he says as Draco helps him stand. He finally flips the trip back up and the room is flooded with light. Draco is still staring at him in concern, but the corners of his mouth are twitching and Harry knows that he’s fighting a smile.

“Next time, just come with me,” Harry says wryly, “instead of appearing behind me like a fucking spectre. You’re so pale too.”

Draco shrugs. “You were taking a while and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Let’s just go back. I want to see if anyone survives the film.” Harry walks back to the living room with Draco close behind.

He doesn’t see Draco’s satisfied smirk.

~~

**2**

“Come on, Harry. Put some back into it!”

Harry wishes he has enough breath to shout something back at Draco, but as it is, all he can do is send a sort of panted growl his way. Draco is strolling in front of him, completely at ease while Harry’s painfully lugging a cart filled to the brim with pumpkins. His arm feels like it’s about to be ripped out of its socket and he’s sure that any minute now, the cart will pull him back and he’ll die rolling down a hill, surrounded by pumpkins. What a way to go indeed.

“Of course,” Draco continues in a mocking voice. “If _someone_ hadn’t been so hell-bent on leaving our wands at home, we could have Apparated back by now.”

Harry scowls. He’d regretted his decision the minute Draco had asked for a cart to carry all the pumpkins he expected to choose. In his defence though, he’d honestly been afraid that Draco would break the Statute of Secrecy if he was allowed a wand. Draco _thinks_ he is an expert in all things Muggle, but his know-how really only consists of operating the television and using the coffee machine. Harry hasn’t even taken him to a Muggle restaurant or supermarket yet, wanting him to first be properly Muggle-trained. This outing has been a first.

In typical Draco fashion, he’d thrown an enormous hissy fit and had only been somewhat placated when Harry offered to keep back his own wand as well – another decision he greatly regrets now. Harry has a feeling that the cartload of pumpkins is part of a passive-aggressive revenge plan on Draco’s part, but one never _really_ knew with him. He probably genuinely thinks he needs this many to decorate their house for Halloween.

Eventually they reach the top of the hill, which means that their home is only a couple of houses away. When they are finally walking up their drive, Harry can’t help smiling. It still feels surreal to think that he has a house _and_ a boyfriend willing to move in with him a mere five months after they’d started dating. His friends had warned him that he was moving too fast and was bound to be hurt, and he’d been the only one not surprised when Draco had said yes before he’d even finished the question.

“Harry, that harpy’s watching us,” Draco hisses as he glares across at the house opposite. Harry glances over as well and can make out the outline of a woman behind the curtains. When they’d moved in last week, she’d mistaken them for brothers only to have Draco politely inform her that they were boyfriends. Ever since then, she’s already told them at least fifty times that they are ‘living in sin’. It’s even starting to get on Harry’s nerves now.

“Ignore her,” he tells Draco as he heads inside to retrieve their wands and some carving knives. When he comes out again, he can see Draco making rude gestures at their hidden neighbour and he sighs, discretely passing him his wand, which he pockets just as sneakily.

“Stop that.”

Draco huffs and turns to him with a pout. “You should be taking my side.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure what you’re doing could be considered harassment, and I don’t want her calling the cops on us.”

“I’ll just have to best her in Halloween décor,” Draco declares after a few more minutes of pouting. “Start cleaning, Harry. I want to start carving as soon as possible.”

“You know, it might be faster if you helped me with the cleaning first,” Harry remarks as he reaches for a knife. “Just a suggestion.”

Draco snorts. “You say the most ridiculous things sometimes.”

Harry sighs and proceeds to clean the pumpkins as instructed. It’s tiring work but he gets it done in the end, and twenty four pumpkins and an hour later, Draco is satisfied.

“The house looks fabulous,” he says, practically preening as they stand on the sidewalk surveying their work. Harry has to admit, Draco’s outdone himself. He’s liberally conjured fake cobwebs and spiders as well, and has managed to create one of the most tasteful Halloween houses Harry’s ever seen. It sure beats the house on their left, with splashes of red paint all over the lawn, probably meant to look like spilt blood.

“I think you’ve broken Harpy-lady though,” Harry laughs when he catches sight of her, blatantly gawking from her front porch. Draco sends her a vicious smile and then pulls Harry in for a heated kiss, which Harry reluctantly breaks with a murmured, “We’re outside.”

They hear a feminine squawk of outrage and a slammed door, and laugh as they watch Harpy-lady vigorously close her curtains.

“This calls for celebration!” Draco announces, bounding back into the house. “Take a seat while I get us some wine,” he calls back.

Harry does just that, seating himself comfortably down on the porch and leaning back on his hands. It’s dusk now and the sun has begun to set, casting everything in a soft, muted light. Harry watches a couple of children pass by on bikes and smiles as he wonders if he can persuade Draco to get on one. The front door opens and closes quietly, and Harry’s about to voice his thoughts, when hands land on his shoulders and begin to knead them in firm, strong strokes.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Harry sighs, closing his eyes and letting his boyfriend release all his tension using only the magic of his hands. If he wasn’t already a successful solicitor, Draco could make a fine career as a masseuse.

The impromptu massage continues for a few more minutes until Harry wonders why Draco is so quiet. “I was thinking, maybe we could invite Ron and Hermione over for dinner later this week,” he says as a ways of starting a conversation. “Hermione’s been begging to come have a look at the place, but I figured you wouldn’t want anyone over until we were properly settled.”

As a reply, Draco only gives his shoulders a small squeeze before continuing with the massage. Harry frowns, wondering if he’s done anything to piss him off.

“We can invite Pansy and Blaise over too, if you want,” Harry continues slowly. “She and ‘Mione have apparently become best friends ever since they went shopping together that one time.”

Draco’s responding hum sounds strangely muffled and Harry’s frown deepens. He finally places his hands on Draco’s to stop the massage and turns around.

“Draco, did I – _buggering hell_!”

Harry promptly jerks back off the porch and the motion sends him sprawling on the gravelly drive, the stones cool against his back. He lies there for a moment, trying to get over his shock and then gingerly sits up with a groan, rubbing at the elbow that took the brunt of his fall. His gaze draws back to Draco.

Draco who is currently hosting a jack-o-lantern on his head.

“Just – _why_?”

Draco pulls off the pumpkin and Harry’s scowl deepens when he sees that the prat has had the sense to cast a Bubble-Head Charm over his head before putting the pumpkin on. Draco’s laughing as if he doesn’t give two Knuts to the fact that his boyfriend is still lying on the ground, bruised and cold. Harry really hopes Harpy-lady hasn’t seen this little affair.

“Because the expression on your face was definitely worth putting a pumpkin on my head,” Draco replies, still grinning like the evil person he is.

“I hate you,” Harry sighs, picking himself up off the ground and dusting his back for pebbles.

“We both know, you don’t mean that.” Draco’s tone is much too smug for Harry’s liking, and what little hold he has on his temper snaps.

He snatches the pumpkin out of Draco’s hands and smashes the bloody thing onto the stone steps, watching with satisfaction as it violently bursts open, before stalking into the house. He can hear Draco’s indignant cry behind him.

“Potter! That was my best one!”

~~

**3**

Harry tries to stay mad at Draco for the pumpkin incident, but it’s pretty hard when your boyfriend employs the basest of means to get back into Harry’s good graces. That is to say, Draco alternates between putting a puppy to shame with acts of cuteness which he _should_ be above using, and full-on seduction involving interesting choices of clothing. All in all, Harry manages a full day and is proud of it.

He’s out in the garden a week later, mowing the lawn the Muggle way. Draco has opted to stay inside with the pretence that Harry doesn’t need any help mowing, though Harry knows the real reason is that Draco is scared of the electric mower and the loud sound it makes.

Harry is almost finished now, and begins to plan out what to do about dinner. He’s been meaning to try his hand at making stew, which he knows Draco simply adores. It’s one of the only ‘plebeian foods’ Draco will admit to liking and Harry is sure he’ll be able to produce something edible, even if it’ll be his first time trying.

Eventually he finishes with the lawn, and quickly puts the mower away in its shed, already mentally cataloguing everything he’ll need to make the stew. He’s walking back towards the house when suddenly he’s stopped by a voice.

 _Pleassse, watch where you ssstep_.

Harry startles and his gaze levels in on the ground where a bright green garden snake lies mere inches away from where his foot has landed. Harry lets out a surprised yelp and jumps away from the snake. He’s never been afraid of snakes before, but he _is_ scared of snakes that talk to him when by all logic, he should not be able to understand them anymore. He _knows_ he shouldn’t be able to understand them anymore.

After the War, Harry had wanted a pet to keep him company. More specifically, he'd wanted a snake. He’d known how it would look, picking such a companion right after defeating old snake-face himself, but Harry hadn’t really cared what the public would think and all he’d wanted was a pet that he could talk to. However, he’d soon realized that being able to speak Parseltongue really had been all Voldemort, and no matter how much he’d tried, he’d been unable to understand a single hiss from any of the lively snakes in the tank.

 _What troublesss you, human?_ The snake somehow manages to lace his hisses with concern.

Harry squeaks this time, and sends the snake a scorching glare. “Stop talking to me!”

_Ssso it isss true. You underssstand the mother tongue._

“No, no, I don’t!” Harry isn’t sure why he’s so freaked out. Maybe he actually is a Parselmouth after all, and it has nothing to do with Voldemort. Still, Harry’s hand shoots up on instinct to touch his scar, half-expecting it to be swollen and pulsing. It isn’t of course, and he lets out a shaky breath. The War is over; there isn’t anything to worry about and he just needs to–

_I mussst alert the othersss that I have found our new Massster._

Harry’s seeker skills certainly come in handy as he dives onto the ground after the snake, snatching at its tail and swinging it off the ground with a triumphant cry.

“Not so fast, you little bugger.”

_Isss Massster dissspleasssed with me?_

Harry grits his teeth. “Stop calling me that. I’m nobody’s master, and what did you mean by _new_ master. Who was your old one?”

_I have heard you humansss refer to him asss the Dark Lord._

_That_ is all it takes for Harry to drop the snake, and stumble back until he falls on his arse. His jaw drops open and he watches in abject horror as the snake slithers slowly towards him. He wonders hysterically if the snake is planning on taking him to meet the ‘others’ and if they mean for him to take over in Voldemort’s stead.

A smothered laugh, however, quickly pulls him out of his horrific fantasy, and Harry’s eyes narrow as he looks around him, finally noticing two indentations in the cut grass a few feet away from him that look suspiciously like feet.

Harry springs across the lawn and the invisible owner of the footprints gives a choked out _oomph_ as Harry tackles them onto the ground. Harry lets out a practically animalistic growl as he tugs his invisibility cloak away to reveal Draco’s grinning face, just barely resisting the urge to throttle him.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing, Draco?”

Draco raises an amused brow. “Why, I believe I am playing an absolutely fabulous trick on my gullible boyfriend. Really Harry, did you honestly think you were some snake lord?”

Harry knows it’s childish but he still grabs a handful of grass and rubs it deliberately into a squawking Draco’s hair, making sure to get as much dirt in there as he can before he’s shoved off. Draco looks furious now but he must be really pleased with his trick because he doesn’t say anything as he casts a Cleaning Charm on himself. Harry walks over to where the garden snake is and this time when he picks it up he sees that it is actually a very realistic toy that Draco had probably spelled into animation.

“You like it?” Draco has come up behind him and he looks smug as he nods at the snake. “I got it from George.” Draco brings a small black box to his mouth and says “Slytherin” to it. Almost immediately, the sound emerges from the snake in a drawn out hiss, sounding nothing like Draco’s actual voice. Harry throws the snake onto the ground in frustration.

“I should never have introduced you to George,” he tells Draco plainly, giving the snake a small kick before he stalks back to the house.

“Come on, you have to admit it was funny,” Draco calls after him.

Harry decides not to make that stew after all.

~~

**4**

Draco actually apologizes for the snake incident, that night itself in fact, and that is probably why Harry stupidly believes he won’t try another trick on him again. He’s sadly mistaken of course, but he takes some amount of pleasure in the fact that Draco suffers through this one just as much as he does.

“Harry, _do_ something!” Draco whines, clutching onto Harry’s shoulders like his life depends on it – which it sort of does.

Harry is trying his best to keep them both balanced on the tiny kitchen chair they are currently standing on, and Draco shaking him is certainly not helping.

“We wouldn’t even be in this situation if it wasn’t for you and your bloody tricks,” Harry snaps back. “And seriously, what in the world possessed you to create _that_?” Harry points at the spider, placidly squatting a mere few feet away, and still as big as a bloody Quaffle.

“Obviously I didn’t mean for _this_ to happen!” Draco whisper-shouts back at him.

“And by ‘this’, I suppose you mean the two of us stranded over here while our wands lie somewhere on the other side of that door?”

Draco sniffs. “I acknowledge the fact that my plan got out of hand. I wasn’t the one that closed the door though, so we’re both to blame for our current predicament.”

“In my defence, I was hoping to keep the thing out when I did that.”

Harry isn’t usually afraid of spiders but he thinks Aragog and his children may have done a number on him because the moment he’d caught sight of the gigantic monstrosity crawling towards him, he’d been _this_ close to fainting dead away. Harry isn’t sure how exactly they’d ended up in the kitchen, but with the door closed they can’t summon their wands without snapping them in the process, leaving them otherwise defenceless against their eight-legged foe.

“Harry, we need to kill it,” Draco whispers urgently, never taking his eyes off the spider. “It’s the only way.”

Harry rolls his eyes at Draco’s dramatics. “We don’t have to kill it; we just need to get to our wands and then we can change it back to normal and get it out of the house.”

Almost as if it understands his plan, the spider suddenly darts out from under the table and settles down right in front of the door. Draco pulls Harry closer by his collar and practically hisses into his face.

“ _Now_ what are we going to do?”

Harry looks at the spider and then at Draco’s frightened expression. He sets his jaw and gently pries Draco’s clutching hands off his shirt as he slowly steps down from the chair. Harry is done being cowed by a mere spider and he’s decided it’s time to take a stand.

“Harry, come back here, you utter berk!” Draco looks torn between staying safe on his chair and following Harry. “I will not be accounted for your early demise.”

Harry decides to ignore him and focus on the task at hand. He slowly creeps his way to the kitchen counter and reaches under it for a large saucepan. He manages to get close to the spider without startling it, and from the corner of his eye he can make out Draco with a hand pressed over his mouth, his eyes wide. Taking a deep breath, Harry bends at the knees and finally places the saucepan over the spider.

Probably no more than a second after the saucepan touches the ground, Harry’s toppling onto his back with Draco seated happily on his midsection. Harry opens his mouth to tell him to get off him, but he’s soon having the living daylights kissed out of him and decides it might be better to just keep quiet.

When Draco finally pulls back with an audible smack, his pupils are blown and he is panting slightly. “My hero,” he breathes huskily, leaning in to nose at Harry’s neck. As he proceeds to move lower, unbuttoning along the way, Harry decides that this is one trick he’s willing to forgive.

~~

**5**

It’s a few days before Halloween and Draco has been on his best behaviour since the spider incident. Not to say that Harry has let his guard down, because he hasn’t. Draco started this weird trick spree with Halloween in mind, Harry’s positive of this, and if there’s one thing he knows about his boyfriend, it’s that he’s as stubborn as a crup with a bone when he’s executing one of his plans. So really, Harry shouldn’t be all that surprised when Draco finally strikes again.

Though the last thing he expected was for it to happen in the shower.

Harry’s happily humming away as he rubs shampoo into his hair, when the shower curtain is suddenly yanked back. He turns, fully expecting it to be Draco here to join him, grey eyes filled with wickedness. Instead he’s met with the terrifying appearance of one Severus Snape, who in all sense should be dead and certainly not cornering him when he’s buck naked in the shower.

“Bloody buggering fuck!” he screams and then yells again when he unconsciously steps back under the shower and shampoo drips into his eyes. Snape is still standing there sneering at him and Harry quickly reaches down to cover his bits, but ends up knocking his elbow against the tiled wall and then slipping on the sudsy floor quite spectacularly. He makes a wild grab at the shower curtain but it isn’t strong enough to support his weight and he pulls it down with him as he falls, landing in a tangled heap. He narrowly misses banging his head on the ground, but his arm takes the brunt of the fall and he groans piteously.

“Shite, Harry, I didn’t mean to–” The sound of Draco’s voice is like a balm to Harry’s frazzled nerves and he opens his eyes just in time to see the greasy visage of Snape melt away to reveal a concerned looking Draco, biting his lip in that way he does when he’s feeling particularly guilty about something.

“Draco, why…” Harry trails off. His eyes are stinging, his whole body is aching, and he’s shivering with cold now too. He can’t even muster up the energy to be mad at Draco, meekly allowing himself to be helped off the floor and wiped down with a warm fluffy towel.

“I am _so_ sorry,” Draco says softly. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Harry rotates his arm a little and sure, it still feels tender but it’s likely just a bruise so he shakes his head. “I think you’ve scared at least fifty years off my life though,” he tells Draco seriously, feeling well enough now to be angry. “Honestly, what is _wrong_ with you? That was so messed up. I have no idea how you even did that.”

Draco looks as apologetic as Harry’s ever seen him and he gives a sheepish one-shouldered shrug. “It’s a simple enough Doppleganger Charm, and I knew Sev well enough to produce a reasonable likeness. I didn’t expect you to react so… explosively,” he adds somewhat defensively and Harry gives him a narrowed look.

“Oh? And how would you have reacted if you were in the shower and, let’s say… _Hagrid_ suddenly popped in to join you?”

The resulting violent shudder and grimace are answer enough and Harry pushes Draco none too gently aside as he exits the bathroom, the towel slung slow on his hips. He has a feeling this will be Draco’s last trick, but right now he’s not in the mood to appreciate that. Instead his mind is whirring with ways to get Draco back.

It is _on_.

~~

**+1**

It doesn’t take Harry long to come up with the perfect revenge trick and he decides to implement it the next day itself. Draco is still humbled by the mishap in the shower and it’s not difficult for Harry to send him off to deliver pumpkin pies to Narcissa at the Manor. Draco doesn’t seem to suspect a thing, leaving with a bright smile and promises to actually help Harry prep for dinner. Harry almost feels bad about what he’s planning on doing.

 _Almost_.

Draco leaves by Floo and as soon as the flames have dissipated, Harry is throwing a small handful of Floo powder into the grate. He calls out the address to Dean’s flat, and soon his old housemate is coming through into his living room, a small briefcase in his hand.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dean asks in way of greeting, but he’s already unpacking and enlarging the items in his briefcase, setting them down on the floor.

“Of course I’m sure,” Harry replies, taking off the white t-shirt he’d chosen for this occasion. He hands it to Dean who sets it down next to his brushes.

“Turn around so I can do your back,” he tells Harry. “Though I warn you, I’ve never done anything like this before so I’m not sure how well it’ll turn out.”

“I trust you,” Harry says simply, doing as told and turning his back to Dean. “Now buck up before Draco gets back.”

Dean rolls his eyes but dips his brush into some red paint and begins to apply it with confident strokes onto Harry’s back. Harry watches as best he can by craning his head back, and at first all it looks like are random red lines that look nothing like Sectumsempra wounds at all. He’s about to complain when Dean sets his brush down and picks up his wand. He murmurs something Harry can’t quite catch as he waves his wand over each red line, and right before Harry’s eyes he sees the paint morph into bloody wounds, slicing up his back in a gruesome way.

Dean holds a mirror behind Harry to give him a better look. “So, does it look alright?”

Harry resists the urge to whoop. “It looks brilliant!”

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Dean sighs, reaching for Harry’s shirt. He uses a swift _diffindo_ to reduce it to rags and then hands it back to Harry. “Here, put it on.”

The ‘wounds’ are still wet and rapidly stain the t-shirt just the way Harry had wanted. Dean sets his brushes away and picks up the small bucket of paint.

“Where do you want to spread this?”

Harry’s already decided the space in front of the fireplace is best, so that Draco finds him as soon as he exits the floo. “Here is good I think,” Harry says, pointing at where he wants the mess to be and Dean pours a liberal amount onto the rug. He’s already assured Harry the paint is easily washed out so there isn’t any fear of ruining the rug. He murmurs the spell from before and the paint turns into a pool of blood. Harry slowly lowers himself to lie on his stomach in the middle of it and looks up at Dean.

“Is this good?” he asks, trying not to squirm as the wet paint seeps into his front.

Dean tilts his head critically and then hums. “Yeah, I think that looks good.” He gives a small shiver. “Merlin, Harry, you look pretty horrific actually. Malfoy’s going to have a right fright when he finds you like this.”

Harry grins. “That’s the idea.”

Dean packs up his briefcase and is gone soon after, shooting Harry a slightly worried look as he steps into the floo. Harry closes his eyes and wills his heart rate and breathing rate to slow down. He throws his wand so it rolls a few metres away from his outstretched hand and then waits, breathes coming out slowly.

Draco doesn’t make him wait long, the Floo flaring up about ten minutes later. Harry forces himself to lie limp even though all he wants to do is tense in anticipation as he listens to Draco stepping out of the fireplace and dusting at his clothes.

“Harry, I’m–”

Draco cuts off abruptly and silence descends on the room. Harry has laid himself so that his face is turned on its side, facing the fireplace, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes even a crack to see what Draco is doing. He barely resists the urge to laugh but somehow manages, and he waits.

Minutes pass and Draco has yet to say a word but Harry refuses to sabotage his own trick by opening his eyes. Eventually though, there is what sounds like a muffled sob and a small thump. Harry finally allows himself to open one eye, just a crack to see what is going on, but what he sees makes his breath hitch and both his eyes shoot open.

Draco has slumped against the side of the fireplace and the thump Harry had heard was probably him sliding down to the floor. His knees have been drawn up to his chest and the position makes him look _small_ despite his height. Draco has both hands clasped over his mouth and his eyes are so wide that there is a perfect ring of white around his grey irises. He’s trembling violently and fat tears keep spilling over his lids and streaming down his cheeks in a seemingly never-ending stream.

Harry springs up as if hit by a Stinging Hex and he scrambles on the fake blood as he sinks to his knees in front of his boyfriend, feeling a sharp ache in his chest when all Draco does is give another muffled sob and shrink further back against the wall. He’s staring at Harry as if he can’t believe his eyes and Harry is scared to even touch him at the moment. Draco finally removes his hands from his mouth and reaches out tentatively, still trembling but not as much as before.

When his fingertips come in contact with Harry’s cheeks, both of them let out twin sighs, and then Harry has an armful of Draco and is crushing him back against the wall, feverishly stroking his soft blonde hair as Draco clings to him and buries his head in the crook of Harry’s neck.

They stay like that for a long time, but eventually Harry feels Draco pulling back so he backs away a little, allowing him more room. Draco settles against the wall again and wipes at his cheeks, no longer crying but his eyes remain red and moist. He then reaches to take Harry’s face in his hands and leans in to place a trembling kiss on Harry’s lips, and it is so tender that Harry can’t help letting out a small whimper.

“I thought you were _dead_ ,” Draco gasps out when he pulls away. “I thought you were dead, Harry, and I didn’t know what to do. I don’t– I can’t–” Draco takes a shaky breath. “If you died, I don’t think I could–” Harry cuts him off with another kiss, feeling like the worst possible berk ever.

“Draco, I’m so sorry,” Harry says, knowing all the while that words can only do so much. “It was supposed to be a harmless trick; just to get back at you for all the ones you pulled on me. I didn’t mean to scare you so badly.”

Draco suddenly looks angry. “What did you expect? I come home and suddenly it’s like I’m sixteen again and back in Myrtle’s bathroom, except it’s not me bleeding to death on the tiles, it’s you!”

Draco’s words hit Harry like a tonne of bricks. He’d never thought of it like that before. Even after all these years, Harry still chokes up at the thought of that day; Myrtle’s screams echoing through the room, the blood in the water, the metallic smell in the air, Draco’s deadly pale face… The first time he’d seen the scars, Harry had almost had a panic attack, and he feels like hexing himself for being so thoughtless. How could he have possibly thought this was a good idea?

“I didn’t think,” Harry finally says helplessly, gently kissing first one cheek and then the other, tasting the salt of Draco’s tears. “I’m an idiot, I’m sorry.”

Draco lets out a watery laugh. “Yes, you are. But I’m the one who started it so I guess it’s really my fault.”

“No,” Harry tells him firmly. “There are loads of other tricks I could’ve pulled on you. I took it too far with this one and that is not on you.”

Draco kisses him again, sweet chaste pecks until they are both smiling against each other’s mouths. They end up cuddled against the fireplace, Draco somehow ending in Harry’s lap, and he relishes in the warm weight of him against it. They sit like that for a while, and Harry has one hand stroking at Draco’s neck over his pulse point. He can feel the rapid beat of his heart gradually slowing down to a steady thrum.

“We need to clean up,” Draco suddenly announces, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he looks down at them both. “You’re literally a bloody mess, and you’ve contaminated me as well.” He looks so endearingly petulant that Harry can’t help reaching behind him to swipe at one of his ‘wounds’ and rub the mess onto Draco’s pristine cheek.

“Potter, you fucker,” Draco snarls, springing to his feet and towering above Harry in a menacing manner. Harry wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“Well, I _could_ be a fucker if you’d volunteer as the fuckee.”

Draco looks positively disdainful. “I cannot believe you actually said that,” he deadpans, shaking his head slowly. “Seriously though, you’re certainly not getting any tonight if you don’t clean up the mess you’ve made. You better pray _that_ ,” he points at the mess on the rug, “doesn’t leave a stain.”

Harry gets up and takes Draco into his arms again. “How about I clean up and you go draw a bath for the both of us? I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

Draco smirks. “I suppose that would be an acceptable start to how you make up for giving me such a scare.” Harry smirks right back, releasing Draco and gently pushing him towards the door.

“I promise to make it up to you _good_ ,” he murmurs, giving Draco a light smack to the arse, pleased by the delicious little squeak it elicits.

Draco leaves the room with one last lascivious look back, and Harry wastes no time in cleaning the room. This past month has been frustrating at best, and Harry’s not sure he can ever look forward to Halloween without a certain vigilance from now on. Still, he figures now that the tricks are over, it’s only right that he collect on some treats. _A lot_ of treats in fact.

So Harry finds Draco upstairs, and he does just that.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are extremely welcome here.


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